


Caring for Your War Cleric

by Ludella



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1693565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludella/pseuds/Ludella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Libra lacked any staves that could heal his own wounds, and after letting it set for too long, magic has no use. Noble, humble, most gallant Virion decides it in the other's favor he stay behind to assist his wounds. Needless to say, Libra's unused to... pampering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caring for Your War Cleric

One of the more difficult parts about being a cleric was the flaws that came with staves. Without a doubt or worry, Libra could easily heal the wounds of just about any of their army men from just about any distance. He could even transport a weak member from afar to his side if they were in a pinch, then immediately switch back to his axe to protect that person until they returned to full health. War clerics were by far one of the most valuables resources to have in battle, and Libra was grateful he could be of any service for his country and deity in such a way.

The only problem was the limits that came with his staves.

They’d been ambushed when passing through a narrow clearing between hills, caught in a valley from all angles. Cordelia and Sumia went ahead to the back of their lines, and Robin dispatched each unit in formations that would benefit their abilities and protect those members that were weaker. For some reason, Robin had decided to change things up a bit with Libra who had usually always remained on the front lines due to his usefulness. Instead, he’d been sent on the back of Sumia’s pegasus to fight alongside her. While most times he was accompanied by Maribelle, switching between healing each other, he found that being on his own with just a pegasus rider was… quite troubling. As soon as he was injured, it’d been all on Sumia’s shoulders to keep him safe until the battle was won, unable to just fly back to the main group.

Unfortunately for him, the Risen’s weapons and tactics were ones he’d never been able to match or even comprehend before. They returned to their camp later that evening, most men able to recover from the attack rather quickly with the help of Ylisse’s princess herself. But upon inspecting the wound that had set into Libra’s arm, even Miriel could not detect a reason for its refusal to close with the help of magic. She concluded with the assistance of Maribelle that, as the battle had gone on so long with it untreated, whatever poison had coated the enemy’s weapon was able to enter his bloodstream without falter.

Like that, Libra had shamefully resigned from battle while waiting for nature to heal his wound on its own--though he was not the only one to reserve himself from the fights.

Other than preventing the wound from being healed by magic, the poison had no other ill effects. He felt it was possible to at least walk around, to at least help out with cooking or supplies or anything that didn’t involve physical labor. And yet here he was, laying in his bed made more comfortable with the assistance of a few more pillows and blankets. He was propped up at a comfortable angle to be able to eat and talk, layers of blankets covering him from his shoulders down seeing as he wasn’t able to put a shirt on, wanting to keep constant track of his injury bandaged at his side.

He could stand the care until another set of sheets were folded over him.

“Virion… don’t you think that this is enough?” Libra tried suggesting in as gentle a voice as he could manage despite the annoyance rising within him. At the comment, Virion chuckled, giving the priest a look of arrogant pride.

“Nonsense! No Ylissean medicine or magic is relieving you any, hm? Rosanne has always had superior methods of healing without staves or the like--please! This is not nearly enough for a man who so bravely sacrificed himself in battle!” Each time he spoke, the words only became more poetic though the general message was always the same.

As soon as Libra’s condition was made known, the look on the archer’s face was one of pure horror. Their great war cleric, unable to battle? What kind of foe was able to handicap the noble, strong, talented and shockingly handsome Libra? Why, it was simply terrible! Virion immediately stepped up to reserve himself from missions until his companion was able to participate as well, and seeing as how medics were always more useful in battle than at camp, his offer had been accepted with the only reluctance being he was their most skillful sniper. He was a great loss, he knew, but sometimes you had to make sacrifices for the sake of others!

Virion had hardly left his side the entire time, only going to return with food or more comfortable pillows and blankets (he’d already brought what was almost the entire medical unit’s supplies to Libra’s tent anyways). There he’d simply sit on the ground, wearing only his lightest clothes while mixing different herbs and medicines until he’d had a unique poultice at ready for when he’d change his bandages next. Not a moment went by when he was not speaking, detailing the highlights of Rosanne science and medicine, speaking of his life in Rosanne or how Libra would love it there, praising Libra for his successes in battle and so on. At least it was never… boring.

Libra shook his head in exasperation, trying to think as calmly as he could. “I truly appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Virion, but I insist you return to Chrom’s aid more than mine. My wound will heal naturally--as a cleric, I know this.”

“But of course,” Virion agreed, pulling the blankets over Libra down to observe his bandages. Didn’t need to change yet. “Dear Libra, I should hope you would never mistake my efforts as patronizing your knowledge; why, I respect your medical claims as much as your strength! Truly you are one of the most talented in our forces!”

“Virion…”

The archer coughed as a makeshift bridge between topics. “However, I simply couldn’t leave you to your own devices, not when I can assist you in some way. I’m well aware that you are capable of taking care of yourself, of course, but is it so difficult to allow yourself to be pampered by another, Libra?” He opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off as Virion continued, pulling the blankets back up to cover him. “Rather, I implore you to take this as an effort of my thanks for assisting even me on the battlefield countless times. It’s my gratitude for a humble, graceful priest.”

Libra merely stared after him while he spoke, a smile gradually rising to his face as he continued. Gratitude, was it? He’d learned most of Virion’s ways long ago, deciphered most of the nobleman’s efforts after a good deal of (shameful) observance and questioning. He chuckled, stopping Virion’s hand on his chest by laying his own over top of it. “I’m the grateful one, Virion. But rather than continuing to waste the camp’s medical supplies, perhaps you can merely keep me company, instead. Save the rest for soldiers who actually need it?”

At the touch, Virion’s face was bright red. Libra got a bit of enjoyment from it he felt he’d have to pray forgiveness for afterwards. “W-Why yes! You are right, good sir. I’ll return the equipment soon, yes. And return to your side immediately, good!”

“You don’t have to talk so much, poet,” Libra laughed, leaning back into the pillows behind him and beginning to close his eyes to rest. The hand under his turned over hesitantly, gently folding their fingers together.

“Then speak, I will not.”

 


End file.
